Should We Want To Be Perfect?

I don’t want to be the gold standard, the finish line, the trophy you aim to hold tightly between your hands. I want to keep on changing, evolving, growing into someone I am previously not. I want to work towards a goal, to think there’s always a way to make things better. I want to rest assured knowing that every day posts a challenge, a big Goliath with arms smugly folded across his chest taunting me, “So what are you gonna do now, David?”

I want to feel alive. If I aim for perfection, I want to strive for a kind of perfection that does not exist. I want to always be reaching for something.

Perfection is a myth, and it should be a myth. It should be a legend. Myths and legends keep us dreaming for more.

There is an adage about life not being about the destination but the journey. The journey keeps you feeling things, seeing and believing and realizing what life is for. It’s about the times you get knocked down and just snapped back onto your feet with fists clapped together for the next round.

I don’t want to be on a plateau. Plateaus make me scared. When everything is going too well, life becomes not really life but just breathing. I don’t want to be a breathing shell strapped in the word we know fondly as comfort. Comfort is good if it is fleeting, but a lasting eternal solace sought through comfort is truly only for beings who are no longer capable of transforming oxygen into carbon dioxide.

I cherish the people who are courageous enough to tell me when I’m wrong. I get flattered with honesty, however brutal or softened it may be. Get my attention by telling me I’m wrong. Make me listen by telling me how naïve I have been. Tell me straight up that I need to change because you bet all your straight flushes that I will. My heart is not a sensitive fool. Yes it breaks, yes it sniffles a bit, but that’s a reflex in us all. After all, it’s a muscle. Muscles need to break first before they build themselves up as stronger, forming a critical mass, a powerhouse that shelters your body from harm and pain.

So go ahead, bring me chaos. Cause the kind of disarray that will keep me on my toes. Throw out all the punches that would keep my eagle-eye on you, my focus zoomed in on your next move. I live when I need to anticipate the next thing, whether it’s the best or the worst.

Give me anything but the ordinary. Shove me into a space called unknown. Break my walls and watch me cling on faith, on hope, so I can unleash the strength I never knew I had.

Let me live. TC mark

image – Kevin Dooley

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  • mellamoaoife

    great piece of writing- very poetic

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